If This Was A Movie
by ViBookWorm
Summary: John is finding it hard to cope with the fact that he will never see Sherlock again. Quite sad but hope lies at the end! A bit of slash mentioned. Post-Reichenbach. Based off the song 'If This Was A Movie' By Taylor Swift. Please review.


**Last night I heard my own heart beating  
>Sounded like footsteps on my stairs<strong>

John bolted upright in bed and listened intently, had that been footsteps? He felt irrational hope and padded quietly to his bedroom door and opened it. Even though he knew it was a foolish thought he still felt his eyes prickle as he saw that no-one was there. He never would hear the footsteps of the one person he wanted the see most of all again, the dead don't walk.

**Six months gone and I'm still reaching  
>Even though I know you're not there<strong>

"Could you pass me a pen please?" John said and held out his hand, when nothing happened he looked up in annoyance and realised the room was empty. Of course it was, he thought scathingly and gave a bitter laugh that sounded more like a sob. The rooms of 221B Baker Street had always been oddly empty after Sherlock was gone.**  
><strong>

**I was playing back a thousand memories, baby  
>Thinkin' 'bout everythin' we've been through<strong>

John stopped as he saw the police tape roping off a back alley, a thousand memories assaulted him in a whirl of colour and sound. Sherlock ducking casually under the police line. Sherlock insulting Anderson every chance he got. The wild sprints through London. Gunfire. Laughter. Friendship. The things he'd never said to Sherlock and now never would.

John swallowed hard and kept going, his head still spinning with thoughts of a friend no longer there.

**Maybe I've been goin' back too much lately  
>When time stood still and I had you<br>**

Lestrade paced the room furiously "John enough! It's been a good six months and you haven't once smiled, laughed, chatted up a girl…in short you haven't been living!"

John sighed and massaged his temples "You don't get it. Sherlock was….a sort of oasis for me."

"Oasis?" Lestrade snorted "That man was least calm person I've ever met!"

John shook his head and his eyes grew unfocused "You never really knew him then." He got up and walked out of the room leaving a worried and frustrated Lestrade behind.

**Come back, come back, come back to me like  
>You would, you would if this was a movie<br>Stand in the rain outside  
>'Til I came out<strong>

John felt the tears trickling down his face and dropping like tiny glittering diamonds onto the headstone engraved with a single name "Sherlock Holmes".

"Come back Sherlock. Please." He whispered "I can't…." His voice broke "Just please." The headstone didn't answer and John gave a choked sob.

"You aren't ever going to answer me are you? You can't." He took a deep shuddering breath "You can't ever answer. This isn't a wonderful movie where everything turns good in the end…..no happy endings." He gave a grim smile and said

"Happy birthday Sherlock." Before laying a bunch of flowers down and walking away.

**Come back, come back, come back to me like  
>You could, you could if you just said you're sorry<br>I know that we could work it out somehow  
>But if this was a movie you'd be here by now<strong>

"Sherlock?" John said hardly able to believe his eyes

"John." Sherlock replied

"Come back Sherlock! We can get you counselling, everything could be fine. Please…"

Sherlock looked away and said "I have to go John."

John felt his eyes well up with angry tears "That's it? No apology at all? You're just leaving?"

"Goodbye John." Sherlock melted into smoke and John woke his face wet with tears.

**I know people change and these things happen  
>But I remember how it was back then<strong>

John was searching everywhere for a motive. Something that would have induced Sherlock to end it all. He knew people had thought Sherlock a fake and Sherlock had known it too, but he had never seemed suicidal about it.

John remembered how it used to be with Sherlock having strange experiments going all the time and his little temper tantrums…everything that had made him the extraordinary man John had the honour of calling a friend.

**Locked up in your arms and our friends were laughing  
>'Cause nothing like this ever happened to them<strong>

John felt himself begin to slide as his foot hit the patch of black ice on the road, he went down, limbs flailing wildly expecting a rather nasty meeting with the cold asphalt any second. A pair of strong arms hooked themselves around his waist and hauled him upright. He turned to see Sherlock wearing a small smile

"Watch out for the ice, John."

Lestrade and a few other Scotland Yarders laughed at the mix of gratitude, annoyance and surprise on John's face.

John smiled very slightly at the memory as he saw Lestrade extricate himself from Mycrofts's arms which had shot out to stop him from slipping on a patch of near invisible ice.

**Now, I'm pacing down the hall, chasing down your street  
>Flashback to the night when you said to me<br>"Nothing's gonna change, not for me and you "  
>Not before I knew how much I had to lose<strong>

"John?" Sherlock's voice was quiet and serious, John looked up lazily from his laptop and was instantly alert as he saw the intensity in Sherlock's eyes.

"Yes Sherlock?"

"We're not going to change." Sherlock's gaze intensified until John felt like he was pinned to his chair.

"What?"

"You are not going to move in with Sarah. You will stay here." It wasn't a question but a statement

John felt a rush of anger "You don't own me Sherlock." He snapped

Something in Sherlock's eyes changed and a flash of hurt speared across his face before it settled back into its normal neutral mask.

John felt a pang of regret at the memory and wished with all his heart he had answered differently.

**Come back, come back, come back to me like  
>You would, you would if this was a movie<br>****Stand in the rain outside 'till I came out**

John felt absolutely wretched as he sank low in the chair, Mrs Hudson had tried to cheer him up but it was all in vain.

Mycroft and Lestrade watched the footage off one of the cameras Mycroft had had installed worriedly until Lestrade broke the silence. "He broke up with Sarah on this day last year. I think that's why he's inconsolable today."

Mycroft shook his head "That isn't it. He's thinking about my brother."

"What? Why?"

"Sherlock wasn't there when John came back after Sarah dumped him, about 15 minutes after that Sherlock texted him and told him to look outside. Sherlock was standing there holding an umbrella next to a cab, John refused to go out to dinner saying 'he wasn't in the mood'. It was raining cats and dogs out there but Sherlock stayed out there for another half hour before John realised he was still there and conceded to go to dinner. They both were in fits of giggles by the time they got home later that night." Mycroft explained softly

"Oh. He's missing their friendship more than ever isn't he?" Lestrade asked sadly

"Yes." Mycroft replied and turned back to the screen. "That's why we have him on a suicide watch, it's 'danger days' like these that can be triggers."

Lestrade sighed heavily "I wish John would come back. The one who smiled and laughed. The one I first met."

Mycroft looked back at Lestrade his face illuminated by the glow of the monitor "Me too, Detective Inspector, me too."

**Come back, come back, come back to me like  
>You could, you could if you just said you're sorry<br>I know that we could work it out somehow  
>But if this was a movie you'd be here by now<strong>

John could feel the familiar dread weight settle in his stomach as he looked at the now familiar headstone. He had a quiet talk to 'Sherlock' before standing up and getting ready to leave. As he walked back through the cemetery, out of the corner of his eye he saw a young girl about 14 talking and hugging a headstone.

She looked up as he approached and smiled slightly despite the tears that were streaming down her face.

"Hello." She said quietly

"Uh….hello. I see you here a lot." John said feeling slightly awkward. "Is there anything I can do, I am a doctor and I know basic counselling skills. It isn't really my place to say this but….."

The girl paused for a moment and then seemed to get what John was trying to say "People always say I'm here too often. That I'm morbid and I have to let the past go. But I can't. This was my dad. He passed away last year, one of those horrible freak accidents…. a stairway fell through and….." She swallowed hard "He fell more than four stories."

John mind juddered to a halt on the word 'fall' and it took him about a minute to respond "I….I'm sorry. My…..friend, the one I come here to see fell. Actually he…." John was unable to say 'jumped' but the girl seemed to understand.

" Maybe you ought to use you psychology skills on yourself. You come here as often as me." She smiled a grim smile that carried the grief that no child should have to deal with and said sadly "If only life was a fantasy and these things never happened. If only we could bring back our loved ones."

Then she walked away leaving John standing there, realising for the first time that Sherlock _was_ a loved one. He felt the damned tears begin to flow again as this new revelation came far too late for both him and Sherlock.

**If you're out there, if you're somewhere, if you're moving on  
>I've be waiting for you ever since you've been gone<br>I just want it back the way it was before  
>And I just wanna see you back at my front door<strong>

John had never been a big spiritual believer but sometimes he felt like something of Sherlock was still left. Somewhere. Anywhere. He certainly talked to Sherlock as though Sherlock could still hear him and sometimes he fancied he felt rather than saw, Sherlock's lips curving upwards in a smile.

He fancied that Sherlock might sometimes be attempting to leave, to go to a 'higher place' and he almost chuckled to think of Sherlock walking among angels, deducing everything about them and where they'd been flying last Tuesday.

But the thought that Sherlock could truly leave always made him feel like the ground was tilting and falling out from under him. He just wanted Sherlock back. It was as simple as that. He wanted Sherlock back and he wanted him to stay., he wanted nothing more than to see the door opening and Sherlock's shadow fall across the threshold.

John closed his eyes and hoped that even if this 'spirit Sherlock' was a hopeless dream he still wouldn't leave, because he didn't think he could handle that.  
><strong><br>**

**And I say come back, come back, come back to me like  
>You would before you said it's not that <strong>**easy****  
>Before the fight, before I locked you out<br>But I'd take it all back now**

Mycroft shook his head as he reviewed the footage of this day about a year ago. Alarm bells had rang in his head when John had called in sick to work, but seemed to be functioning just fine. He had got his many employees to find the tapes of this day last year and as soon as they had told him what it contained he had posted about twenty people around 221B to ensure that John didn't try to harm himself in any way.

Mycroft pressed the rewind button and saw John and Sherlock yelling angrily at each other, John gesticulating wildly and Sherlock clenching his fist inside his coat pockets so no-one could see.

John stormed away from Sherlock, headed straight upstairs to his bedroom and slammed his door shut. And when Sherlock tried to open it a few hours later he found that John had jammed furniture up against it so he couldn't get in. The pain and shock that covered his face as he turned away from the door made Mycroft wince.

That had been the day before Sherlock had fallen.

**Come back, come back, come back to me like  
>You would, you would if this was a movie<br>Stand in the rain outside  
>'Til I came out<br>**

John was curled up on the couch at Lestrade's house watching a crappy romantic movie with Lestrade, Donovan and surprisingly, Mycroft.

John still didn't know what had possessed him to accept Lestrade's invitation but Donovan had actually smiled at him and whispered "Glad you could make it." John was told quietly by Lestrade that she had broken up with Anderson as was a much nicer person for it.

He bit back a smile as the long lost boyfriend of the main character stood outside her house as it bucketed down. He saw her open the door, heard her scream of delight and saw her run down the steps to fling her arms around her boyfriends neck.

John had to excuse himself and go to the bathroom at this point. He hated himself for being so weak but the joy, the happiness, the sheer relief on the woman's face at the return of someone she thought dead… John swallowed hard. He needed to get a grip.

**Come back, come back, come back to me like  
>You could, you could if you just said sorry<br>I know that we could work it out somehow  
>But if this was a movie you'd be here by now<strong>

"I don't know why..." John said hopelessly as the earnest face of his therapist looked into his

"Why do you feel like you can't really work properly without him in your life?" She said intently "That is a very important question that you need to contemplate John. You need to figure out why it hurts as much as it does."

John almost snarled at her to go away but instead he forced a smile and said "Oops, I think I'm late for another appointment. Must dash, I'll see you next time." He walked out of her office feeling the unspoken answer ringing in his ears

"_I loved him. I still love him. But he never knew."_

**You'd be here by now  
>It's not the kind of ending you wanna see now<br>Baby, what about the ending?  
>Oh, I thought you'd be here by now<br>That you'd be here by now  
><strong>

John stood frozen staring at his computer, someone matching Sherlock's description had been seen breaking into a house where a man was later found dead. John had done his research and discovered that the dead man had been strongly connected to Moriarty, he felt his breath quicken as he stared at the screen for a few more dazzlingly hopeful seconds.

The he shut the laptop and shook his head, he had to stop grasping at the insane idea that Sherlock was alive.

"I saw him die." John muttered to himself fiercely."I saw him fall, I saw the blood. He's dead and he's not coming back."

He felt his eyes well up as the memory of the fall resurfaced with a mind-bendingly abrupt and painful twist.

"Stop kidding yourself John." He murmured

Over in the corner a concealed camera seemed to slump with sadness.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Sherlock pressed his face against the cold window pane and resisted the urge to scream at Mycroft. "I. Can't. Tell. Him." He ground out

"It's tearing him apart Sherlock!" Mycroft beseeched "Just one sign…anything! Just to keep him going."

"NO!" Sherlock roared his temper finally reaching it's breaking point after two hours of nagging from his brother. "If he knows….. he can't conceal it. He _can't_ act. He's so honest and….." Sherlock gritted his teeth as John's laughing face burst into his mind.

"And if Moriarty's men realise…..they'll kill him and come after me. I can't…I won't let him die." Sherlock whirled and began to stride out of the room.

"He misses you so much." Mycroft said softly

Sherlock swallowed and kept walking but he sent a silent message to John as he left the building and got into a waiting car..

"_I miss you too, John."_

On the other side of London, John rolled over in his sleep and a smile graced his lips as he dreamed of a familiar baritone voice, giving comfort and reassurance in the hours he needed it most.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Please review because I worked super hard on this! It isn't my usual writing style so please tell me how I did!<strong>_


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